


Starlight

by Noelle_Malia



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, F/F, F/M, Female!Bucky, Fluff, Protective Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-05 14:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10310165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noelle_Malia/pseuds/Noelle_Malia
Summary: In 1954, almost ten years after falling off the train, Janine Bianca Barnes is picked up by Russian soldiers and brainwashed to become the perfect weapon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first *official* story, (I'm ignoring my other one out of shame), and I'm super excited to be posting it. I've had this idea for a really long time now, and so one day I just decided to write it. Have a nice day lovelies, and I hope you enjoy it.

Janine Bianca Barnes "Winter Solider"

Born: 1917

Status: Alive

Whereabouts: Classified

***

1954

The Asset was a girl made up of ice and snow. 

The cold had moved slowly, from her toes to her knees, over her hips, and under her ribcage. He twisted himself inside her lungs, gently slipping under her sternum, and wrapping his icy hands around her now icy heart. He encased her in himself, trapping her in her own mind, robbing her memories and happiness until all that was left was a frozen girl, with a frozen heart.

The Asset had tried to break free from her prison, for longer than she could count she had tried. Her days were always filled with frigid cold, burning fire, and lovely defiance. She had fought long and hard, but eventually one day, all she woke up to was frigid cold and burning fire, the lovely defiance long gone, having flown away. 

She no longer beat against her cage, but sat in it, her eyes empty and voice silent.

She was obedient. 

The Asset avoided pain by following orders. She killed, injured, and kidnapped who the men in the suits said to. She had strings made of chains and a stage with bars, her audience threw knives and threats at her, and yet she still danced for them. Her heart lacked the emotion to be disgusted with herself.

***

The Asset lay on a roof, looking down at her Target. He had brown hair, handsome eyes, and two children with him. He seemed harmless enough, he wasn’t carrying any noticeable weapons and the children with him seemed happy.

It was a shame they would have to see this, but she had her orders, so her gun sounded anyway, and the Target fell. 

She watched as the children cried out, falling to the ground beside the man, holding him with a desperation one could only learn through experience. It was a heartbreaking scene. 

Though her eyes remained empty, her voice silent, and her heart frozen.

***

Sometimes The Asset felt like she had a life before this one. One full of warmth and smiles, worry and fear. A life full of emotions, regrets, and gratefulness. Somedays all she could think about were vivid blue eyes and a head of blonde hair.

She asked the men about it once, they did not respond.

***

The Target this time was a woman. She sat in her living room, an old radio playing music as she read. The Asset watched from a tree in her backyard, her gun trained at the window by the sofa.

The Asset adjusted her gun so it was aimed to kill, pulling the trigger with steady fingers. The music played on as the woman's head dropped back and her body went limp.

Her eyes remained empty, her voice silent, and her heart frozen.

***

1958

The Asset was on a mission when she first remembered. She remembered chilly nights with a small heat source lying next to her. She remembered happiness and relief, both directed at a tall man with blond hair. She remembers the panic and a face growing small above her as she fell. She remembered how to breathe. 

And that was the first time she escaped. 

She ran up north, her bed was a forest floor and her food small, uncooked animals. She laughed freely without fear of punishment. Here, her eyes could be bright and her voice loud. The chilly air that matched her heart healed her. She felt like she could live like this forever because while it wasn’t an ideal life, it was a free one.

But then they found her 3 weeks later, and her world was made of pain. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. This time they did not use the tank or the chair, but needles. It felt like her insides were being turned to dust and her mind torn apart. The pain had seemed to last years, but her internal clock read that it had only been a week. It was unbearable, but The Asset found it was all worth it. The lovely defiance had returned from her journey, swooping into her chest and thawing the ice. Too bad is was that the frigid cold and burning fire drove her away. 

***

Her skin was made up of ice, so beautiful, but oh so fragile.

***

1963

The Asset stared at the orphaned girls surrounding her. She knew most of them would die during training, but her heart was too cold to care. 

She took in a deep breath.

"There are three rules to surviving," she said, slowly turning to look at each girl, "The first rule is to never show weakness." 

She took in another breath.

"The second is to never show mercy," she locked eyes with a tall red head, who held her stare.

"The third one is to obey." The redhead tilted her head at her with a resistance that seemed oddly familiar. 

The girls nodded at her, with the exception of the redhead. The Asset turned away.

"If you follow orders, your life will be a whole lot less miserable, understood?" She began to slowly turn again as the girls all nodded in answer.

"The Red Room is pain, one you must learn to bear or else it'll break you," The Asset motioned towards a middle-aged, blonde woman at the edge of the room, "Madame B. will take you for now."

The girls all turned towards the woman and began to walk to her.

The Asset strode towards her quarters, but not before looking back to find the tall red head staring at her. The Asset allowed her lips to curl into a cruel smile before exiting.

***

The 28 girls slowly dwindle down to 23, then 18, then 16, and so forth, but the stubborn redhead, Natalia, still remains.

***

She wakes at night from the feeling of falling, cold air, and fear. Memories of snowy cliffs and fresh red blood flash behind her eyes. She doesn’t go back to sleep. 

***

The Asset stares up at Natalia as they spar. She takes in her red lips and even redder hair, her muscled body and bold eyes, and realizes just how beautiful she really is. An unknown emotion makes her heart lift and eyes go wide, distracting her just enough for her to get slammed onto the mat, pinned under Natalia with her back aching. Though, for some reason, she doesn’t mind as much as she should.

When The Asset returns to her quarters, she thinks of the red head and smiles.

***

The Asset trains the Black Widows to be the best there is. 

She teaches them to be ruthless and cunning, how to kill men with their bare hands, and how to trick and lie. She builds them up to be the beautiful monsters the Soviet Union wants and needs. 

But she also teaches them how to be gentle and graceful, how to be silent in the night, how to escape the nightmares that surely haunt them. She teaches them how to braid hair, read, and sing, how to be human. Because The Asset knows that life without compassion isn't a life at all.

It’s a quiet act of rebellion against her captors because while she turned them into murders, she also ensured that they'll stay human and that their hearts will never freeze like hers.

***

The girls dance so beautifully, carrying their heavy sins with grace. They twirl and spin with knives on their feet and guns in their hands. Their faces held a deep determination which shielded their even deeper fear. 

The Asset watches as Natalia tore through her opponents. One after another, no one can beat her. She dances her way to victory, her fluid limbs silently slashing them down. She does it in such a way so they do not know they are losing until they're on the ground. 

She's always known Natalia held potential, even as a murderer, (a beautiful murderer, though).

***

That night she dreams of Natalia's thick red hair and smirking lips. She wakes with a smile on her face and something like happiness in her heart. 

***

She invites Natalia into her room when an abrupt feeling of loneliness hits her. Natalia accepts and they sit on her cheap couch, talking for hours about training, what they remember of before, their experiences and stories. It's surprisingly deep, and The Asset feels weightless. Natalia asks her name and The Asset can only respond with a quiet, "I don’t have one."

Natalia smiles a rare smile and names her. "From now on you are not a nameless creature, but Belka, a fearless woman." She says. 

The A- Belka feels warm and happy, smiling up at Natalia like she's known her for years. She whispers a soft thank you and gently kisses her upon the cheek. 

Natalia looks at her with a sparkle in her eyes and a blush on her cheeks as she pulls away, another rare smile crossing her face before she bids The As- Belka goodbye. 

***

Thick red hair.

Striking green eyes.

Long, limber legs. 

A human masterpiece. 

***

"Do you remember any of your past missions?" Natalia asks, bright eyes gazing at her with curiosity. "You know, they say your heart is ice."

Belka looks up at her, her eyes soft and more vulnerable than she could ever remember being. She thought about the question, coming to the conclusion that while if she thought hard enough she could remember them, she preferred not to. After a long silence, she speaks, "It's a little fuzzy around the edges, like it's not all there." She doesn’t respond to her second comment, and if Natalia notices, (which she probably does), she doesn’t say anything, which Belka's grateful for.

***

She smiles as she watches Natalia spar. She looked more as if she was dancing than sparring, with her fluent twists and dodges. She slowly circled around her enemy, corralling them like a lioness hunting her prey. She was graceful, alluring, and dangerous. Belka couldn’t keep her eyes off her.

***

They send her on a mission, a simple shoot to kill. While Belka sets up on a nearby roof, she watches as the woman slowly strokes her daughter's hair as she sleeps leaned against her. The woman's scream is silent as the bullet embeds its self in her brain, efficiently killing her. The little girl sleeps on as her mother's body goes cold. The A- Belka feels disgusted with herself and guilt weighs heavy in her stomach. She leans over the roof and throws up. 

When she returns to her quarters, Natalia is already there sitting on her couch, her head snapping up as she walked in. She sees the grim look in her eyes, and doesn’t say anything, just gets up to embrace her. Belka buries her head in the crook of Natalia's neck, holding her tight with the need for reassurance and support. Belka only allows the tears to well up when her face is completely hidden in red hair. Natalia quietly leads her back to the couch, never letting go of her as she gently sets them down. She hums an unfamiliar song, nice and slow with a calming, repetitive tune. Belka only hugs her tighter, inhaling the smell of her plain shampoo. Natalia hums a little louder as she begins to cry, slowly lulling her to sleep.

Belka finds that sometimes a frozen heart is better. 

***

She dreams of red. Vibrant, but lighter and duller than blood. This red doesn’t make her scared or angry, but warm and happy. It’s the feeling of home, something she hasn’t felt since the last time she looked at those anonymous blue eyes.

***

She wakes to a warm, hard body pressed against her, holding her. Still too drowsy to feel alert, she sleepily opens her eyes, looking up at Natalia's familiar rectangular face. She found her already watching her, something gentle in her eyes, a something she's never seen on her before. Belka smiles up at her, wide, genuine, and tired.

Natalia blushes, her cheeks slowly turning pink as she blinks in surprise. After a moment she returns the smile, the strange softness in her eyes gone, only leaving behind a slight twinkle. "Good morning," she said lazily, rubbing circles into her back, "How'd you sleep?"

'Good because I dreamt of you' 

"Good," She said instead, "You must've warded off all the bad dreams with your terrifying aura."

The softness returns to her eyes just a little, "You wanna talk about last night?" She asks, a patient and understanding look on her face. 

Belka shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. She knew Natalia wouldn’t judge her, she had a job, and Natalia knew just as well as she did what happened to those who didn’t do as they were told. Belka just doesn’t think she's ready to face that yet, she's never had to deal with guilt, or shame, or regret. These were all new and foreign to her, meaning she needed a way to cope with them. But how can anyone cope with being a murderer? The kind that kills in front of children especially? She could as Natalia for advice, but Belka knew that'd bring up bad memories for her, and she didn’t want to do that to her

"It was just a hard mission, that’s all," She finally settles on, not going into much detail. Natalia knows it isn't the full truth, but she accepts her answer with a nod. A comfortable silence falling between them, broken only moments later when Belka asks "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, you make a good teddy bear."

Belka chuckled, glad the topic has passed and tucked herself further into Natalia's side. With a jolt, she realized she had training at 7:30. 

"What time is it?"

"Only six, don’t worry," She responded, adjusting her position slightly so she could hold Belka more securely, "We have time."

Belka smiled again, something she was doing a lot these day, and closed her eyes, quickly falling back to sleep, snuggled against Natalia.


	2. Chapter 2

Janine Bianca Barnes "Winter Solider"  
   
Born: 1917  
   
Status: Alive  
   
Whereabouts: Classified  
   
***  
   
Natalia is truly beautiful, an exquisite creature made of equal parts darkness and light. She's an angel in the middle of Hell, hardened by the injustices placed on her. She survives and even thrives where others cannot. She reminds Belka of a younger version of herself, equal parts fascinating and horrifying. She is enchanted by her, utterly lost in her swirling depths. The brunette doesn’t believe she'll ever make it back to shore, and if she's being completely honest with herself, she doesn’t really want to.  
   
***  
   
Red Hair.  
   
Green Eyes.  
   
A devotion stronger than hate.  
   
***  
   
Belka returned from her mission to find Natalia sitting blank-faced on her couch, unseeing and lost in thought.  She stepped inside the tiny apartment, gently closing the door behind her, trying not to disturb Natalia. It did no good, upon hearing the soft click of the door closing, she looked up from her dead stare, her carefully constructed façade crumbling as their eyes met. Belka could see the evident fear in them and quickly strode across the room to take a seat next to her.   
   
"Hey," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Natalia's broad shoulders. "What's wrong? What happened?" She didn’t respond, just looked at Belka with a vulnerable expression and teary eyes. The brunette tightened her hold on her, whispering quiets reassurances as Natalia bowed her head to rest her face in her neck.  Seeing her like this deeply unnerved Belka, who was so used so used to the red head's calm and composed demeanor. She knew something really bad must've happened for her to be acting this way, which greatly worried her.  
   
Belka tightened her hold on her, as if her arms could ward off Natalia's troubles. But, she got the feeling she couldn’t punch her way out of this one.   
   
She rested a hand on her lover's head in a reassuring and supportive gesture, softly humming the same repetitive tune Natalia sang whenever she came home from a particularly hard mission.   
   
For a long while they stayed like that, intertwined. Just simply holding each other. Soon enough Natalia slowly began to calm down, her wrenching sobs quieting into silent tears as she reluctantly let go of her. The trainee looked down at Belka, her eyes red and lashes clumped with tears, and Belka cherished that Natalia trusted her enough to allow her to see her like this.    
   
The brunette gave her a final hug full of weight and emotion before getting up and offering the redhead her hand. Natalia looked down at it, eyes flickering back up to her face, before hesitantly taking it. Belka led her to their bedroom, going over to the bed to prepare it for her. She tucked back the covers and tilted the pillows as Natalia stood in the doorway, watching her with gentle eyes. Belka looked up at her, offering her a silent invitation. In return, the redhead gave her a watery smile and made her way over to Belka. She laid down next to the brunette and turned to face her.  
   
"Are you okay?" Belka asked, scooching towards her.  
   
"No," the redhead replied, "but I'll get through it"  
   
"Wanna talk about it?" Belka said as she rested her head on Natalia's breasts, closing her eyes.  
   
"Maybe tomorrow," she whispered, looking at Belka with a special fondness.   
   
The girl responded with an affirmative sounding hum, snuggling further into Natalia's chest, soon falling asleep.  
   
"I think I may be able to fall in love with you," She murmured, "and that terrifies me."  She protectively tightened her arms around the girl next to her, before burying her face in Belka's hair and falling into a dreamless sleep.   
   
***  
   
Her blue eyes aren't quite so dull.  
   
And her smile isn't quite so sad.   
   
She glows with the radiance of love and happiness.  
   
Belka is warm.  
   
***  
   
Belka lazily dragged herself out of bed the next morning, not unware of the empty space beside her. She stretched as she slowly made her way to the kitchen, where she knew Natalia would be.   
   
True to her instinct, there she was, in some short pajama bottoms and a big t-shirt, beautiful as ever. She strode over to her, leaning against the counter where she was chopping vegetables for an omelet.   
   
"Hey," she looks up at her, smiling, a warm and open expression on her face.  
   
"Hey," Natalia replied, looking down at Belka with a similar expression, "How'd you sleep?"  
   
"I think I'm supposed to ask you that, seemed like you had a rough day yesterday."  
   
"It's over now," She said, going back to chopping the vegetables. Belka made a doubtful noise, moving closer to Natalia so she could wrap her arms around her waist.   
   
"Really! I'm fine, don't worry about me, okay?"   
   
Belka sighed, obviously knowing her lover wasn’t going to tell her before she absolutely had to. "Okay," She said, "but when you're ready to talk about it," She looked up at Natalia, "Just know I'm here."  
   
"I know."  
   
And that’s all Belka could do.   
   
***  
   
Another mission.  
   
The guilt is slowly suffocating her.   
   
The days go by faster than usual.  
   
***  
   
"Belka?" Natalia whispered to her late at night.  
   
"Yes?" She responds, not looking at her face, instead twirling her bright red hair around her finger.   
   
"I want to remember, remember my life before this." she said, tugging Belka a little closer, "I want to know what my parents were like, if I had any siblings, any friends."   
   
"I know, Птичка, I know."   
   
***  
   
There's blood, so much blood.   
   
Its not a clean and easy mission, but a horrible, twisted one.  
   
One meant to send a message.   
   
Belka looks down at her red hands, and back to the mangled family surrounding her. She drops to her knees.  
   
Her heart is heavy with sorrow, like its filled to the brim with bricks.   
   
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," she chants quietly, her voice thick with tears. "I didn’t want to, oh god, I'm sorry"   
   
Tears slide down her face, unnoticed, as she bends forward, her forehead touching her knees. Belka closes her eyes, but all she can see is the dead family, dead because of her. The little boy, holding onto his mother as she stalks into the room. The father, cold on the floor, blood dripping out of his wounds s his daughter finds him. The sheer fear in all their eyes. She knows this mission will haunt her long after she's dead.  
   
"I'm so sorry."  
   
***  
   
There are tear stains on her pillow the next morning.  
   
"I'm so sorry."  
   
***  
   
Natalia is getting worried, Belka can tell. It's not obvious, but she knows her. She can tell by the way the redhead stares at her for a bit too long, how she holds her a bit more tightly late at night, how she bites her lip a little harder than usual when she's lost in thought.  
   
***  
   
"Are you sure you're okay?"  
   
"Don't worry  about me Птичка, I'll be just fine."  
   
***  
   
Crimson haunts Belka's dreams and the color is no longer a sign of comfort. Of safety.  
   
It’s a color of screaming and anger, of guilt and sadness, of death and blood.  
   
It’s the color of her nightmares.  
   
And now the color of her destruction.  
   
***  
   
She watches from the sideline as Natalia and the platinum-haired girl exchange blows in the dance of life or death, and she can't help the dead that curls deep in her heart.  
   
She knows what Natalia is capable of, she knows she won't lose, but Belka can't help but worry anyways.  
   
***  
   
Natalia is standing in their compact kitchen when she returns, staring out into the living room with an empty look on her face.  
   
It's quickly hidden away under a false smile when she notices Belka sneak in.  
   
Sorrow weighs heavy on her heart.  
   
***  
   
For the 5th night in a row, Belka wakes up screaming.   
   
Her vision is red, not with anger, but blood.   
   
She puts her head in between her knees and cries. Natalia slowly comes up behind her, shifting so she can wrap her arm around Belka's small frame. And she hums.   
   
It doesn't help.  
   
***  
   
They dance around each other with blank expressions and vacant eyes, trying to silently convince the other that they're alright, that they aren't crumbling to dust.   
   
That Natalia isn't becoming a husk of her former self  
   
That Belka doesn't flinch when she see's Natalia's hair  
   
That everything is fine.  
   
***  
   
They sit on the couch, leaning into each other without speaking.   
   
Belka looks up at Natalia and just stares, just takes her in.   
   
Her strong jaw and tanned skin, her bright green eyes and soft red hair. The little freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, and the small, white scars littering her face and neck from training.   
   
She's the most beautiful person Belka had ever seen, a goddess among commoners. Otherworldly.   
   
And she wants to love her so badly, oh god how she wishes she could. But she knows that as soon as she allows her self the liberty to do so, that she'll be dragged away, wiped clean.  
   
And it scares her more than she could think was ever possible.  
   
So she deludes herself that she doesn't already love her, that if she denies it enough then she won't and then maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to stay.  
   
***  
   
Natalia is out training and all Belka can hear in the deafening silence of their apartment is screaming, and gurgling, and whimpers.   
   
Belka thinks herself mad.   
   
***  
   
There aren't many girls left, only a handful.  
   
They're all grown now, brutal, cruel, and competitive because they know failure is a synonym for death.   
   
They all dance around each other, their smiles cunning and wicked, they're movements sure and confident,  but they're eyes betray them and gleam with dread.   
   
Belka wishes she could free them, wishes she could take them far, far away from this place, somewhere they can find peace. But alas, she is just as trapped here as they are, a bird held inside a cage that has long been welded shut.   
   
***  
   
They're laying in their small bed when she says it, "I'm scared."  
   
And Natalia lifts her head up from where it was buried in the crook of her neck and says, "I am too, and that’s okay."  
   
And Belka doesn't cry (although she did come close), instead, she tucks herself more firmly against Natalia's side and the girl responds in kind by tightening her grip on the brunette,  as if they were trying to become one being, one soul.   
   
"We can make it through this, I promise."  
   
***  
   
But they don't.  
   
Belka returns from a particularly good mission, if that’s even a thing. It was clean, and the victim was an older man well into his prime who had already gone out and experienced life. (the visual of the old man smiling as Belka presses the barrel of her gun against the side of his head plays on repeat in her head).  
   
Good or not, Belka was exhausted and all she could think about was changing out of this suit and spending the little left of her night curled up on the couch next to Natalia talking about their day.  
   
But instead of letting her go after the briefing like usual, they lead her into another room, one stinking of antiseptic and sorrow and filled to the brim with clunky machines.  
   
Her hands shook as they secure her to the cold, metal table in the center of the room, the leather straps binding her biting into her skin.  Belka thrashes about, trying to get free, begging to have them let her go. But deep down she knows its no use.   
   
("Please, please, don't do this, please.")  
   
 And as the black object is placed in her mouth in between her teeth and the chair reclines so she's facing the blank ceiling, all Belka can think about against the blinding fear in her stomach is how she's never going to see Natalia again, that she's never going to tell her how much she loves her.   
   
Tears well up in her eyes and the two cool, black machines close around either side of her face.   
   
Belka thinks of Natalia's face, her clear green eyes, her high cheekbones, and straight nose. She mapped it, engrained in into her, hoping that against all odds that maybe, just maybe, she'll remember her.   
   
And then devastating, shattering pain crashed into her, forcing her world to go dark.  
   
***  
   
The asset emerges and her skin is like ice.  
   
 


	3. Frostbite

Janine Bianca Barnes, "Winter Solider"  
   
Born: 1917  
   
Status: Alive  
   
Whereabouts: Classified

-

1989

She goes on missions, never missing a kill. Her gun is a familiar weight in her hands and her motions are smooth, practiced; like she's been doing this for years.

And for all she knows, she has. 

The only thing she remembers is the name her handlers gave her, her missions, and the deep, iciness that haunts her dreams.

But The Asset has not been trained to worry or care about these things, so she only hoists her gun up higher and marches through the snow covered lawn over towards the pretty white mansion up ahead.

-

It takes awhile to get there with the cold biting at her skin and the thick snow providing plenty of resistance. But The Asset pushed through it, she has a mission after all. 

She has no other choice but to persevere. 

She creeps along the side of the house, avoiding the warm, artificial light shining from inside out of the tall windows. She tucks the gun against her body a little more, seeking warmth in it's cold metal, but finding herself unsuccessful. 

She continues to clutch onto it anyway, it feels nice to hold something so close; feels as if she's done this before, only the object was warmer, bigger. 

The Asset slips behind the back and stares up at the towering pillars leading to the balcony above her. Reluctantly, she lets go of the gun and swings it around so it's resting on her back. Then, she grasps the column's slippery surface and prays to some unknown god that the small rubber grips on her gloves will be enough to survive this climb, let alone this mission. 

Slowly, she begins to lift herself along the column, inching upwards at a speed comparable to a snail, possibly slower. By the time she finally manages to drag herself to the top, swinging her body over the balcony rails, her arms burn and her legs ache. And for a moment, all she wants to do is collapse right then and there, right in front of the balcony's fancy French doors and call it a night. 

But she has a mission, one she must complete unless she'd like to reap the consequences. 

She shudders with the thought, the memory of ice and electric pain worming its way under her skin. 

So The Asset continues to move, ignoring the pain in her limbs to walk over to the grand glass doors and jiggle the handle. It easily gives under her hand, silently opening with a flick of her wrist. Her breath hitches, and she knows somethings wrong. Because, this door shouldn't be unlocked, not at this time of night. This door led directly to her Target's son's bedroom, and she knew from her research that he would not have left his door unlocked, never in a million years. 

So when she hears a man's heavy breathing to the right of her, she's not surprised when she turns and sees him raise a gun at her.

And as his finger moves toward the trigger, The Asset acts, swiftly bringing her metal arm up to shield her head as he fires, the bullet pinging off of it as if it were plastic. He lunges toward her, smacking the butt of the gun against her temple. 

The Asset stumbles backward, her head throbbing. The man begins to stalk towards her, holding his gun up until its level with her face. He presses the cool barrel of it in the center of her forehead and whispers, "Did you really think you could pull this off?" He brings his mouth up to her ear, "My employer is one of the most influential people on the continent, he's got ears everywhere."

He smiles at her, and she just raises her eyebrow. 

"No one is exempt from Hydra's wrath." she softly says to him, like you'd speak to a misbehaving child. 

Then she charges at him, catching him off guard as his gun slips from his hand. She pins him to the wall, her metal hand gripping his neck and keeping him in place. 

The man's eyes widen and he makes a few pathetic, garbled noises, his body jerking in a desperate attempt to escape her grasp. The Asset can't feel his pulse under the plating of her metal hand, but she suspects its beating just a little faster than the usual if his short, panicked breaths are anything to go by. 

She lets her metal hand slowly tighten, watching as the man brings his own hands up to his neck, scratching at her impenetrable hand, trying to pry it from his own throat. His mouth opens to let out a silent scream. 

She only lets go of him when the man has long since stopped struggling, instead his body is limp and sags against the wall, vacant eyes staring straight ahead. As she releases her metal arm, his body tumbles to the ground in a heap, and that's where The Asset leaves him as she goes to explore the rest of the house. 

-

As it turns out, the house is devoid of life, all possessions having been moved out not too long ago. The Asset trudges her way out the front door and through the snow, the well known feeling of dread swirling in the pit of her stomach, growing with each passing second. She knows this disappointment will not go without it's consequences. 

For a second, she allows herself to have a moment of weakness, stumbling until she's leaning against one of the many paneled walls. She pushes her hands into the wood, slowly sliding down it until she's curled in on herself, sitting on the cold floor. She closes her eyes and takes deep breaths, in and out. 

She looks down at her hands, one flesh, the other metal.

"I deserve what's coming," she reminds herself, voice hollow as she repeats the words she's heard her handler say so many times while he laid her in that chair.

She pushes herself up from the ground and walks out of the mansion's wide, glossy, front door. 

She makes her way to the pick up point as quickly as she can, which is not as fast as she'd like it to be, but manages to make it there in good time considering the snow. Up above is a helicopter waiting for her, a long ladder dangling to meet her. The Asset looks up again and back down at the ladder, sighing as she begins to climb.

-

She remembers when she briefed her handler on the mission, he asked all the unnecessary, extra scientists milling around the room to leave. And as she looked up at his face, all she could see was the cruel gleam in his eyes and sadistic grin on his lips as he looked down at her in the chair. She had already known that this wasn't going to be pleasant, but seeing the look on his face made her heart pound and body shake, her hands sweating as she gripped onto the seat. 

She remembers him strapping her in, whispering to her that her actions have consequences, that this wouldn't have had to happen is she had just done her job.

The next couple hours was just a blur of pain, as if her body was being ripped in two.

Her only condolence was that at least she wouldn't have to remember it the next day. 

-

She walks into the small cell she was given, her body aching with old pain as she curled up on the small cot provided, pulling the thin blanket over her shivering form. They had locked her away again, froze her body like they had time and time again. She didn't even have the liberty of remembering why.

But she was too exhausted to ponder about such things, her sore limbs dragging her deeper into her pitiful bed until her mind gave into sleep's temptation. 

-

Red hair haunts her, roaming her mind like it's for the taking. Deep green eyes pierce right into her soul, like an emerald sword. A cold woman holds her gently, caressing her arms, laying her head on her chest. 

The Asset is at her mercy. 

-

She won't sleep anymore.

The Asset's dreams are plagued by the woman, her memories just out of reach like a word that's on the tip of your tongue. She hates it, the fact that the answers to these dreams, memories, are just out of reach, never straying too far from her calloused fingertips. 

Never coming any closer either. 

She's exhausted, tired of staying awake throughout the night, burning holes into the stained ceiling above her as she wills herself to stay awake, not wanting to close her eyes because she knows that tan, angular face will be there, waiting.

And it terrifies her, scares her to the depths of hell and back that she might regain these parts of her past, only to lose them all over again.

-

1991

The Asset drives her motorcycle down the lone road, relishing in the false freedom the vehicle gives her, the wind whipping the few strands of loose hair peeking out from under her helmet. 

She loves this, loves how it rumbles under her fingertips, loves how the cold, nighttime air caresses her. 

Up ahead, by the curve, she sees a light burst through the thick trees. Quickly, she swings to the side, hiding herself in the surrounding forest as she turns off her headlight. 

"Here we go," she whispers, gripping the bike's handles a little tighter. 

The car approaches her at a steady, safe pace, creeping along the road like it has all the time in the world. When it gets close enough to see her she starts up her bike and drives straight out of the bushes and smack into the middle of the street. 

Her black clad figure glows in the car's headlights and the driver swerves to avoid her, slamming into the fence just off the road. 

The Asset slips off her helmet, running her hands through her hair as she abandons her bike in the middle of the road and moves toward the car. She leans down, checking on the driver whose head appears to have had banged against the steering wheel and dashboard, rendering him a bleeding mess. She lifts his head and raises her gloved fingers to his neck, gently pressing for a few seconds before turning away and heading towards the backseat. 

She peers inside the shattered window. A bloodied woman has her head leaning against the car's door, fragments of glass surrounding her body. The Asset opens the door, hands ready to catch the woman to prevent her from falling. She gently rests her against the seat, hands going to her neck yet again to check for a pulse.

Nothing.

The Asset feels her heart ache and turns away, looking past the dead woman and over to the man beside her. This was her Target, she was certain of it. 

The Asset backed away, slamming the door shut before making her way to the other side. She flung the door open and looked down the middle-aged man before her.

He wasn't very impressive looking, though the dangerous ones rarely do. His hair was brown bordering on gray and was beginning to creep away from his forehead. His face had a collection of forming wrinkles marring it, especially between the angry junction between his brows. His body was thrown across the seat and she saw his hands grasping at it.

Not dead then. 

She hoisted her gun up towards the sky and grabbed him by the collar, dragging her target outside the car and onto the street.

He sat on his knees, blurrily looking up at her as she leveled her gun to his forehead. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel anything as she stared down at this man, wasn't supposed to feel pity or regret. But as she pressed the barrel of her gun against his skin, her Target looking at her with confusion in his eyes, The Asset wished she could change his fate. She wished this man could live out the rest of his days. 

But she had a job to do, a mission she had to complete. And The Asset did not want to forget again just yet.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed on the trigger. 

The shot echoed throughout the surrounding forest and she opened her eyes, looking down at the man sprawled across the pavement below her. 

She pulled him up and threw him back into the car, not bothering to shut the door. There was no way to hide the fact that this was an assassination, not with a bullet hole in his forehead. So she just made her way back to her bike, looking into the security camera watching her before speeding off, back to the compound.

**Author's Note:**

> Ask questions or whatever on my Tumblr @illiiad.tumblr.com <3


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